


Street Lights & Starry Nights

by littleberd



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Agent Mothman is Mothman, Competent Zim, Dib's a lonely little mothmanboi, M/M, Membrane begs to differ, and the control brainz are scared, are Irkens their PAKs, but there is another question, he knows what's going on, or Mothman's son, or are Paks parisites the control brainz use on Irkens, that is the question, these are questions that need to be answered peeps, what brought about the Irken Empire's need to conquer, what exactly are the control brainz, whatever you get the picture, whether to keep his insane son safe or not, who believes that he and his family can't be the only aliens out there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 03:44:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21331735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleberd/pseuds/littleberd
Summary: What if?This sentence is a loaded question, it's range for possibility is incalculable.Like the whole of the universeLike the last digit of pieAnd because it's unpredictability suits my needs... I'm going to use it for my own selfish question...What if...my family and I, Dib Membrane...are not the only aliens out there?
Relationships: Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 60





	Street Lights & Starry Nights

**Author's Note:**

> So I always like to theorize why the Irken Empire was conquering every planet they could... I've already made one fanfic about that... and well, I feel like exploring in that direction again... and I've come up with something that might be a little odder than the last one and a lot less back story...
> 
> ok maybe not that last part but yeah  
different story

Another blast rocks the pathetic spittle runner, he didn't get a chance to steal an attack cruiser. _A faster craft, a craft with better weapons or at best-_

The alien chuckles self depricatingly, every short breath feeling like his last because it very well **could** and most likely **would** be his last. 

_A decent fucking flare shield. Because I know the truth._

_ **Zim Knows** _

_And that made them furious._

"No," he corrected, gritting his teeth and clutching the shitty manual controls hard enough to make his talons peek through the fabric of his gloves, _It made them terrified._

"Zim doesn't know if that's good or bad no-"

A direct hit to his sub engine, the explosion sending flames into the cockpit, a few pieces of shrapnel cutting into his shoulder and leg. The bare minimum emergency suction suit encases him on impact. With the giant-ass hole in the side of this decrepit excuse of a space craft, Zim was thankful for at least that.

Zim hisses, seething at the damage the brain washed morons incurred. They were right on top of him now, no escaping... at least, not any way that they'd consider... only the craziest idiot could possibly think of doing this... or someone that had nothing to lose.

Zim grins, cracking his neck and flicking the clear case over the button that's either going to end him or save him. He looks out of the hole at the three irken cruisers lining their weapons right at him. And when the bar next to that particularly appealing button shoots to red.

His smirk turns terrifyingly smug, because Zim doesn't play fair, Zim doesn't **play**, and if he did? It'd be to win, no matter the odds. Because these _smeets_ are within range of gravity.

Which means...

Zim waves at them mockingly, slamming his hand on the hyperjump button.

They're going to be sucked into warping speed with him, and their ships have not induced warp speed or engaged subliminal shields. Aka...

Zim jerks back into the seat as the suction suit barely keeps him attached to his ship as it's being torn apart, the peices scrapped away projectiling into the sorry bastards behind him. Zim doesn't need to hear the explosions behind to know that there's nothing left.

They never had a chance on Irk of making it out alive.

Suddenly the only bit of the cockpit left falls out of hyperspace, the mass unable to keep it's atom peeling momentum up. Zim grunts in pain, squinting at the unrecognizable solar system he's found himself in, and the blue planet that's getting closer and closer.

Zim stutters out a breath of exhausted relief: the shock, the adrenaline, his injuries, and the slowly healing radiation sickness getting to him. The suit would keep him alive ;although, there wouldn't be much left of the craft once it made it's way through the atmosphere. Vortian technology was amazing that way; funny, not even a cycle ago he would have called it Irken technology. His PAK, the defective little parasite that's both a curse and a blessing, activates power down to conserve power and begin extensively healing _him_, the host.

But not before Zim thinks out loud three words that will be the very last thing the Control Brainz will ever hear.

"Victory for Zim"

**Author's Note:**

> (facepalms) my roommate is going to kill me because of this fic.  
Also, thank the lovely discord group for this abomination  
y'all know who you are...  
"I ship that spider with the moth next door"  
"I'm that moth"


End file.
